We were able to extend the wires for the O2 sensor as well and got that installed finally, and my Dad fixed the rusty front fender. With a license plate. It's an acquired taste. I like it a lot.
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Normally I favor the stock vs modified look. Don't know if it's nostalgia, or the mod doesn't honor the timeless design lines, etc.
But that license plate repair is
super cool. If I pulled up next to you, I would point at it & give you a thumbs up.
For this actually reminds me of a favorite DD that started off as a bit of a Flintstonemobile & failed a VT safety inspection for this.
And the garage owner was really insistent on this, even though the interior carpet was still 100% intact and you couldn't tell there was missing metal underneath?
And although I had the wherewithal & requisite skills to fix this really right (and normally I would have done so) there was something about the garage dude's attitude
(my way or no highway) that just set my jaw. Projecting what he experienced at a bad DMV visit? Or honing his skills for a future HOA inspector gig? WTF?
So I made absolutely sure about what it would take to pass inspection when I returned. I can still feel the unnecessary smugness and looking down his nose in his response. :0)
So I went home, pulled the interior, picked a retired VT license plate, buffed it to a high shine, & riveted it in as close to aerospace quality as I could muster in my garage.
Complete with a careful tiger hair gasketing for good measure. And the plate was face side down. Even used masking tape during the Tiger hairing/riveting to get clean lines.
Inside, I cleaned up the floorpan, slathered epoxy over everything, and even deep cleaned the carpet & everything else going back in.
The cockpit view was worn in but showroom sharp.
(His justification for failing my new DD was 'exhaust fumes in the interior', and this was non-negotiable.)
Gave the entire car a senseless buffing and turned it into a 20 footer.
And I returned.
And he look surprised. (I think he sized me up per my facade at the time, which was computer system support engineer, & figured I would choose the easy answer and junk it.)
But since the car was a new (to me) DD candidate that wasn't happening. It was a good machine, safe, mechanically ready, just needed that VT inspection sticker.
He gets in the car, felt the carpet where the hole used to be, and proceeds to drive it on his lift.
And when he sees the fix, it's like I had rattle-canned a great big finger in neon paint in his general direction.
He was trying to act cool, but there was no mistaking his displeasure. And he micro-inspected the fix. Which I anticipated, and ensured functional perfection w/max visual effyoo.
I still remember the moment, a quiet battle of wills in a 1-man garage that was the only game around in rural middle Vermont.
So as not to jinx the application of the mandatory inspection sticker, I had my very best poker face on, with a small side of innocent vehicle-illiterate mixed in.
He didn't ask me who did this. But he did ask me what I did for a living.
And I honestly replied that I taught Field Service guys how to fix a big VAX being built in Burlington. And was a weekend warrior fixing F-16s at the nearby airport.
He didn't say anything in response.
Got the sticker, and the fix outlasted the rest of the car. (~ 4 years of DD service.)
****
And the above is *exactly* what I remembered vividly when I saw your license plate repair. Be sure to tell Dad that he absolutely nailed the fix.
And he made an old dude in upstate NY very happy with his solution.
Wish I had a picture of that long ago license plate fix. (But I added a pic of another 'finite budget backed into a corner moment'. See attached.)
But this was in the early days of going from zero to twins in the home.
Rolls of film (& processing) didn't fit into the daily budget. (Think disposable cameras {remember those?} on birthdays & holidays. :0)
But I'd like to thank you for bringing back a fun interaction that I haven't thought about in literally years.
Sometimes it's the smallest victories that put the wind into your sails.
I would absolutely drive your rig with a sheet eating grin behind the wheel.
